


Jet Black Orbs

by Xin0Lan



Series: You Have Always Counted [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Blind Character, Blindness, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Happy Ending, Party, Physical Disability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-04 05:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5321618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xin0Lan/pseuds/Xin0Lan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case, a masquerade, and a blind detective with his lady. What else is there?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jet Black Orbs at a Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> Completed work on Fanfiction under the title "You Have Always Counted." Slowly merging stories from FFn to here. Please bear with me.

**Jet Black Orbs Part I**

* * *

"Oh my goodness Sherlock! What happened to your eyes?" Molly gasped at the ghastly sight of Sherlock walking into her lab at the morgue with his dishevelled appearance. His hair was a wild tangle of curls, but otherwise, he overall appearance wasn't alarming (well almost).

"Really! Come now Molly," Sherlock rolled his eyes and scoffed,"You now perfectly well what has happened to my eyes. In fact, I recall you being there from the start. In fact, I believe it was you I told first when I received my prognosis about my eyes, noting how they would cease to function as intended as time passes." He slide his hand along the wall until he came upon her working table.

"Sherlock! Stop being sassy," Molly turned off the microscope and rounded the table to stand in front of Sherlock, "Tell me though. What did you do to your eyes? Is this one of your self-experimentation? You know I forbid you from doing so." She felt anger building up, he had promised her over and over, so, should he have broken the promise, things would not fair well for him.

"Quite right you are. No Molly, I am a gentleman of my word. I would never do such a thing in fear of receiving another strike across the face, especially since now it has a ring on it. A very handsome ring if I might add." He cleared his throat and reached for her hands, pulling her small form close to him while gently fingering her beautiful diamond ring.

It was his own engraved wedding band's constant presence on his finger which made him very self-conscious of his behaviours and words. Like Mrs. Hudson had told him once on the day John wed, "marriage changes people Sherlock..."

_Yes it really does. Having a wonderful person to share life with made a huge difference in how he lived and behaved._

"Observe closely Molly, what do you see?" He dipped his head toward her eye level.

Sherlock!" Molly heaved an exasperated sigh and cupped her hands around his face, peering intently at those two (currently) solid black orb that caught her heart years ago, "Why in the world would you wear contact lens that are opaque? You look like a man who has two giant black holes where his eyes should be. I hate even the thought of it, but you look like the personified form of Death, with his black hood and scythe. It's a very unsettling appearance. Please take them off. I don't like looking at them, I'd rather see your natural eye colour. They're much nicer." She gently closed his eyelids and massaged the each eye in slow circles. "Please Sherlock."

* * *

_Since knowing the man for nearly a one and a half decade now, and about half of said time he started experiencing aggressive progressive vision loss.** Thus now wed three years to date, she was already well beyond expert at knowing when his pains would flare, and it had begun to set in. It was ever so slight, just a little facial muscle tremour here and there, then a little scrunch of his brow. It was hardly noticeable to anyone, but she wasn't just anyone._

_They came at such strange and random times, often causing debilitating and excruciating pain from internal pressure on the lines connecting eyeball to the rest of the cranial organs. It wasn't just a headache, it was an intense aching sensation from they eye to the brain. Deep internal pain was harder to remedy than superficial ones, like a slight strain on the temporal lobes could be solved with some peppermint oil._

_Her dear husband had lost consciousness quite a few times when flares would strike up, it was due to the close contact with all parts of the brain working together to compute and manage the pain sensory nerves. Overloading and overworking the cranial region caused the extreme headaches, or as Sherlock called them, "rebooting the system after it crashed."_

_Surgery was an option, but as with any surgery, there were some risks. Still, removal of the affected organs seemed the most plausible and beneficial action in the long-run. Yet the surgical risks included the pain not going away despite removal of the organ and/or having the pain source move further into the head which would present an even more complex issue to solve._

_Additionally, the empty socket was an open invitation for all sorts of bacterium and pathogens to entre the body system. So for now, Molly had let the talk of surgery lay quiet, because he wasn't keen on loosing any organs, but she had every intention of bring it up at the right time again. It was their best option and perhaps hopefully the answer to the problem._

* * *

"I can't, it's for a case." He answered cryptically.

"Here. Come with me," she led him to her office and guided him to the big comfy rolling chair then sat crosswise in his lap,"Tell me now. Please Sherlock. I demand a good explanation for why my husband is coming to me in this unsettling state."

"Very well," he sighed in mock defeat,"You win on one condition."

"...and that is what exactly," waving her wrist in the gesture when one wanted someone else to keep speaking, "I'm not the one who pieces things together? That's your job, I perform post-mortems examinations. You can't just stop talking on a sentence like that Sherlock."

"I'll tell you after, first the case and the reason for this ruse," pointing at the obvious, "This is for the case concerning the stolen articles from the big business corporation John and I are currently working on. We have narrowed it down to three criminals who have (for us) the fortunate habit of hiding poorly in plain sight. Their attempts to blend in with a crowd have failed miserably, but unfortunately (for us) their agility makes up for their lack of intelligent thought process, thus why we have yet to actually catch them though we know the persons directly."

Molly nodded with understanding trying to connect the information she already knew from him being on the case so long already, and figuring out how that necessitated her husband the need to change his eye colour.

"So, explain to me this part then," she questioned and resumed softly caressing the area keeping the pain at bay. So far it was working, he visibly softened at her touch.

After remaining silent for some moments, he resumed where he left off, "Tonight we have much reason to believe he will make an appearance at the formal gown masquerade the neighbouring company is hosting. The three of us will pose as guests and you and Mary as our "guest and friend". Lestrade and John have both chosen very dull masques, they describe it as "typical, conservative, yet fulfils the purpose. Here, have a look," he pulled out his mobile and used the automated voice-over to locate the picture.

"I think they are some dapper gentlemen with their top hats and tuxedos. A masque doesn't have to be extravagant Sherlock, theirs is just fine. A small black velvet fabric covering around the face from nose and up is perfectly fine, and suits them well. Now, let me see yours."

"Ah. Ah. No. Not just yet," he locked the screen and pocked the mobile before she could scroll through the rest of pictures, "You'll find out tonight. After all, you promised to accompany me on this part of the case that I've been hinting toward you for the past days. These black eyes are part of the costume and that's all you'll see until you and Mary come in the limousine reserved for the event. It was Mycroft's idea, but I thought you wouldn't object to such an offer, so I accepted it on the premise you would like it. The three of us will arrive ahead of you to scope out the place and plan on how to arrest the three."

"Fine," Molly gave him a quick hug then pulled him to his feet and felt the hands on his wristwatch, "best get going home then or else you won't have time to make there early. Can't wait to be surprise."

"Likewise, Mary refused to tell me what you two went shopping for. I'll see you there in three hours. Don't be late."

Giving his wife one last hug, he exited the room and headed to meet up with the men.

* * *

****** **Information about Sherlock's vision loss can be read in "In Whose Eyes?" and it's sequel "Watching Over Each Other".  The aforementioned stories each stand alone, it's merely a timeline of the events.**


	2. Jet Black Orbs II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published on Fanfiction 15 October 2015

**Jet Black Orbs Part II**

* * *

_"Likewise, Mary refused to tell me what you two went shopping for. I'll see you there in three hours. Don't be late."_

_Giving his wife one last hug, he exited the room and headed to meet up with the men._

* * *

Quickly Molly finished her day's work at the pathology lab then sought out her ally for getting themselves ready for tonight's event.

"Mary! I'm heading home now. Want to come over to my place?" Molly asked juggling between her paperwork, personal bags, and the mobile whilst walking out the hospital doors, "Sherlock just dropped by to see me off like he does everyday when I finish work, but today I sent him to meet with John. You know, for tonight's big case thing."

"Wonderful timing dear. The men just stormed up the stairs causing quite a racket. I'm a bit worried for how the house will look if I leave," she joked whilst gathering up her elegant evening gown, brand new high heels, and the cosmetic pouch, "I'm nearly about to leave. Meet you at the flat."

The two rung off and each scurried around frantically trying to get to the flat as quickly as public transportation would take them.

Some how, perhaps by chance, the two arrived to Molly's flat at the same time. After setting down and finally organising all the materials needed for the evening, the two ladies set about dressing up to the level fit for a masquerade.

A considerable amount of time was spent on making sure every single strand of hair was in its proper places and doused with about half a litre of hairspray to ensure it's co-operation for the entire night. After make-up and hairstyles were finally adjusted to suit each one's liking, the two ladies eagerly donned the lavishly embellished ball gowns.

"You know, Sherlock must have hounded me about twenty different ways wanting to know what we kind of dresses we went shop for that afternoon" Mary mused as she laced up the back of Molly's floor-length dress, "For once he couldn't deduce it and I'm very glad of it! Hate to spoil such a fine night with his unwanted deductions. Let him be surprised every now and then. Especially with the looks of you tonight will be extra special for him."

"Oh, stop it." Molly blushed a deep red and rubbed her cheeks in attempts to cover it, "He is very persistent, isn't he? Tried to wheedle the information out of me this afternoon too, but I wouldn't have it. Well, in all fairness, he wouldn't show me what he would wear except for those horrid black contacts. He claimed they were for this case, but I never know what exactly to think with the man. He's a strange one, but my crazy husband."

Molly twirled her finger motioning for Mary to turn around, "It's your turn to let me fasten your dress. Just think of John's face when you step out of the limousine tonight, I am sure it will be a moment to capture. I don't think I've ever worn a dress to this extravagance before. Both of us in lace-up corset gowns with complimentary high-heels and jewels to accompany it. My entire wedding attire wasn't even half this complicated."

"Enjoy it, because I'm enjoying my part of it. I don't think we'll ever have another chance like this again." She pondered for a moment, " No, it wasn't complicated, but it was beautiful cream-white one. Sweetheart neckline with three-quarter laced-trimmed sleeves suited you well," Mary pointed out as she replaced the Holmes' wedding photo album on Molly's vanity.

"I sure won't forget Sherlock's expression when John described to him how stunning you looked coming down the aisle. I know you're the photographer captured that moment for keep-sakes as well as all the guests." Mary fingered the frame of the photo she described.

"Yes, he does have a nice smile," Molly smiled back at the photo recalling the happiest day of her life, "Well, when he actually decides to smile instead of scowl at everything."

Come," she motioned to the doorway, "let's stay in the sitting room. We have about twenty minutes until our chauffeur arrives. How do you think the men are faring?"

"Hard to tell, but I would assume not nearly as efficient as they would claim to be considering your husband despises bow ties and neckties with equal passion. So, I would think they haven't even pulled the clothes of the hangers yet."


	3. Chapter 3

**Jet Black Orbs Part III**

* * *

Meanwhile several streets away a less-than-calm situation was taking place...well, firstly because grown boys were involved and that rarely goes as planned...and the second was...

"What do you mean you don't know where it is!? How could you not know! I left them here for a reason, so Molly won't know what I'm going to wear. I never thought you'd actually lose my shoes!" Sherlock screeched at his companions. The other two were frantically rummaging around John's bedroom trying to find the pacing tiger's pair of dress shoes.

 _His dress shoes. Of all things he's obsessed over, shoes... Those solid black, custom-made Oxfords polished so much the sun's beams bounced off them_.

"Now, Sherlock, just have a seat," Lestrade took the barefoot fuming consulting detective to a chair, then started turning over everything in the room, "We'll get this sorted out in a jiffy. Must be a little misunderstanding and got misplaced. Any success there John?" He called out to the man with his head buried deep in the closet haphazardly throwing random articles of clothing over his shoulder.

"No."

By accident one flew straight into Sherlock's face, "John," he warned in a menacing voice, "What is the meaning of assaulting me with your," he paused and fingered the fabric, "with your jumper. In particular, the jumper I experimented on multiple times to test the corrosiveness of different chemical strengths on fibres."

"Ah yes, here is one of the holes," he smelt the fabric, "still reeks of the acids, I'm surprised you kept it. You know it's neither typical nor socially acceptable for a man of your age to wear ragged, torn, unkempt clothes."

John couldn't help but hurl another one of his poor experimented on jumpers at the annoying one's head.

"Don't roll your eyes at me John, I know your habits far too well to know that is exactly what you've just done and are doing now," he mocked John's facial expressions with much exaggeration, "Must we have another discussion on social etiquette? First, it was tardiness, and now it's about dress and grooming. What is the world coming to!?" Sherlock exclaimed with disdain, "Your lack of proper interactions with others is appalling. Really! Another one?"

He held up another jumper in equally poor condition as the first one, then flung one at John and one in Lestrade's direction.

"Well now you've done it Sherlock," Lestrade commented with a wicked grin and wadded the jumper ready to throw when John's strong arm pelted with another article of clothing. Now armed with a dress shirt and jumper, Lestrade chucked one at each of them before hastily retreating behind the desk.

With three grown boys and an arsenal of throwable objects, the room then became dangerous war zone. In only a matter of minuets, John's usually neat and military-like ordered bedroom turned into the after effects of a tornado's path.

-0-

"Surrender! I surrender!" John called out whilst trying to fight off the other two grown boys who were a tangle of limbs on top of him. "Let me go! Please guys!" He struggled again, but that was a mistake. Lestrade didn't expect John's arm to wrench free from his death-grip, so the force of the release threw the elder man off balance and his bony shoulder punched into Sherlock's side.

"That hurts!" he cried indignantly, "Might I take this moment to state, I am very glad we are at this place instead of my flat," Sherlock shifted so Lestrade rolled off his side with a muffled thud, "I shudder to think of Mrs. Hudson or our wives to walk in on us in this very unflattering moment."

"Really Sherlock! You're one to talk! Only NOW that thought crossed your mind! Bit late if you ask me," the silver-haired one shot back and sat on his heels snickering at the still tangle-limbed duo whilst massaging his tender shoulder.

"You...You're insufferable! Come on, we should get ready for the case tonight." He hauled his friend to feet, which were still bare at this point. "Well look here! You'll never guess what I found under this mess that you've made."

"I MADE?! It was YOU who threw it at me and started it," he shot back defensively, "You finally found my shoes that I gave to you specifically to watch over for safekeeping. I'm right, aren't I. " he finished with a deadpanned expression.

"Why yes of course you brilliant oaf! Now here, get dressed. Don't want to be late tonight!" John unceremoniously shoved the clothes and shoes in his friend's arms, then directed him to the bathroom. "Hurry up!"

 


	4. Jet Black Orbs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** "Last time" refers to Sherlock refusing to tie his bow tie of the best man's suit. See chapter 1 and 2 of "Watching Over Each Other" for the reference.

**Jet Black Orbs Part IV**

* * *

Minuets later three dapper men sauntered into the sitting room, two were dressed to the letter in the finest jet black wing-collared fabric, secured in the middle with a white satin custom tailored V-cut pointed waistcoat, and tied off with a crisp silk white bow tie at the neck.

As for the third companion, he too was decked out in the best formal attire available, but it was a ghastly shade of bright red instead of the customary solid black.

"What?! Sherlock!" Lestrade exclaimed as he and John turned around to face their third companion, "What happened?You look terrible! And that red is an alarming shade, too bright and looks too wild. Why couldn't you have just worn what John and I are wearing now? Black Nice solid black tails with white on the inside? Did you forget this is a White-Tie event we're attending?"

"Yea mate, hate to break it to you," John threw in his two cents shaking his head incredulously, "but that red suit is really quite something. Never thought you'd wear something that crazy. Makes my eyes hurt just looking at it, not to mention what YOU have done with you're eyes! I'd ask, but I don't think I want to know the answer to that."

John handed his masque to Sherlock, "You do realise this is a Masquerade!? We are under the guise as guests, not attending a circus as the performers, you remember? We are trying to blend in, not stick out as walking targets! You of all people! You're rather obvious even in your everyday clothes and now wearing red certainly doesn't help at all. Nothing screams "walking target" better than bright red plastered on every single part of your body."

An exasperated John sunk into his chair heaving a frustrated sigh.

"Sherlock," Lestrade whispered, "best to put the bow tie on before John goes off on you again."

"I heard that, Greg," he didn't bother to look up, merely pointed a finger sternly at Sherlock's neck and ordered, "Find it and tie it. I don't want a repeat of last time, ******  and don't give me any grief about it."

"But John," the dapper red-coated gentleman countered in a sarcastically juvenile whine with false airs of annoyance, "But I can't see so I won't be able to tell if my bow tie will be straight so why must I bother with these trivial things. Bow ties are just decorative strangulation devices. I prefer to attend this function without feeling like I will pass out from suffocation at any given moment."

Sherlock crossed his arms in huff," Besides, what if I DO want to look like a walking target?! Hmm?! That is my personal choice. As for my eye, it's merely colour-contacts. How do you find them? I hope I look frightening. It's for the case."

The two men burst out in a wild boorish laugh with John finding his ability to speak first. "Sherlock. You alone are frightening, you didn't need to dress up for that. With your creepy black eyes and bright red dinner jacket it certainly looks more like a horror film than a masquerade.

The two proper gentlemen shook their heads as they sighed exasperatedly.

_Why can't that man act like a man at times?_

"Yea. Yea. Sherlock, quit your fussing and just tie it," so the man-child compiled with Lestrade's request, digging out the midnight-black satin fabric and deftly knotting it into its "butterfly" form.

Lestrade helped straightened the wings on Sherlock's bow tie, then gathered up his own crisp white dinner gloves, "We have to leave now, or else if we're late the entire thing will be done for nothing."

He took the leading in heading out of the flat, followed by a pouting childish man and his adult best friend. They looked like pieces that fell off a checker board game: Black. Red. Black.

* * *

Upon arriving to the elegant place with much time to spare, the gentleman dawdles in the antechamber until their ladies arrives. The limousine had just as it pulled up to the decorative double-door entrance as so as the the chauffeur opened the passenger door.

"Sherlock," John nudged him in the side softly and whispered so Lestrade couldn't hear, "you know the term 'drop dead gorgeous'," Sherlock nodded slowly knowing where the comment was headed, "Yea. well, that phrase doesn't even measure up to my Mary. She's absolutely stunning with this teal short-sleeves gown with glittering fitted fabric on the top and the lower skirt part looks kind of like a metallic teal/purple mix when she walk and the light hit it a certain way. There's even the glittering stuff in her pinned up hair with those flower pins Mycroft gave as our wedding gift."

The love-struck husband offered his hand for his wife to take once the chauffeur escorted her to him. "Hello my Mary, you look absolutely stunning tonight," he commented and finished with a kiss to her cheek.

"Thanks love. Wait till you see Molly's dress. Hers is one-of-a-kind beauty."

"Tell me Mary please, you're the only one who knows. What is my wife wearing?" Sherlock asked as he impatiently fidgeted with his cuff links waiting for his other half to emerge from the mobile.

The elegantly dressed lady in a soft pink flowing gown took her husband's forearm and led them to the gathering crowd into the main foyer.

"Now will you tell me?" Sherlock whispered into his wife's ear as she took his arm skilfully guiding them through the massive hallway without either of them bumping into the other guest, "I've waited long enough, I deserve to know what you and Mary went shopping for that one afternoon, don't I ? John tells me you're very pretty and Mary called you magnificent. I must know. What do you look like tonight?"

"I suppose you've been good," she teased, "I would tell you everything, but I think you'll have more fun deducing my appearance tonight. My entire gown is a soft pink, and the skirt is many layer that puff out from my waist."

She smoothed away his wavy hair that came loose from the hairspray and fell over his masque, "You cleaned up nicely. I always knew you were dashingly handsome, but having tails and bow-tie makes it so much better. Red is a good colour, but why red? You don't particularly favour that colour so why red, instead of the customary black?," she glanced around at the attire of the others,"everyone else is wearing either a black, dark blue, or bright white dinner jacket set."

"Oh, no reason in particular, but tell me now. I must know, the design. I imagine looks nice, but dresses aren't for men to decide." He cupped his arm around her petite waists as they meandered through the small tables offering hors d'œuvre and apéritifs. (Starters/appetisers and dry alcoholic drinks)

"Would you care for some cheese cuts or a small sweet, dear?" Molly politely filled her plate with a few things so not to seem unappreciative of the host and gathering. He shook his head and gently pushed her plate away.

"Tell me the room Molly. I must catch him tonight." He unfolded his red-tipped white cane awaiting his wife's lead for mapping out their "battleground".

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Jet Black Orbs Part V**

* * *

He cupped his arm around her petite waists as they meandered through the small tables offering hors d'œuvre and apéritifs.

"Tell me the room Molly. I must catch him tonight." He unfolded his red-tipped white cane awaiting his wife's lead for mapping out their "battleground".

The pink and bright red duo skillfully meandered through the entire place as his wife fed a running stream of vivid descriptions on the guests, surroundings, and structures into his ear.

A little whisper of "there a small bush which makes for a great hideout," or "this corner is a great location for picking up voices clearly without looking like eavesdropping" made Sherlock snicker at his Molly's crafty mind conjuring up a way to take in their target.

They finished the walk in the antechamber adjacent to the dining hall just before the meal was announced, so Molly and Sherlock quickly took their place at the dinner table with rest of their party without attracting attention.

The dinner discussions were animated and quite interesting to say the least. The topic started out with the typical pleasantries and weather, soon it futhered into likes and dislikes of tea, biscuits, and music genres. But of course, with Sherlock around, events rarely unfolded in the proper manner.

He soon became so engrossed in a detailed recantation of his previous case with an elephant in the room, a dwarf with a poison dart, and an invisible man** It was a bit unsettling for the other six guested seated with them; topics on cadavers were rather too much for them to stomach.

The lavish five course meal left all feeling extremely content with the rich food sitting in their stomach's slowly digesting. It was to the pleasure of the three men; Sherlock, John, and Lestrade, that dancing would follow in the next hour. That was the prime moment to capture the criminal who had been leaving mysterious taunting notes for the Yard.

-0-0-0-0-0-

"Please ladies and gentlemen would you adjourn to the ballroom to enjoy the musical selection," the maître announced professionally.

"Splendid timing," Sherlock whispered to John who was sitting on the left, "everything is going just as planned."

The guests rose and trickled into the elegantly decorated room filled with lively dancing music provided by a world-renowned chamber ensemble. Molly saw her husband's expression turn to one of sheer delight when they heard the violin playing the solo part in the waltz.

It was a waltz he oft played himself when he was in a content state. As with most waltz, this one was presented in 3/4 time and a gentle rhythm that allowed the Holmes' to dance entire room for mapping out the plan. Sherlock deftly spun his wife in graceful slow circles so she could discreetly eye the suspect's interaction with the target.

"Sherlock, I think I found him. He matched the description you and John gave Mary and me earlier. Now what do we do?"

"We catch him my dear. Lead the way and I'll talk. Take my cues and in no time he will be led away in handcuffs." He chucked far too happy for any sane person, but then again he wasn't just anyone. Catching criminals were his forte, not the arrest- that was Lestrade's job.

Molly perched on his arm in the typical ladylike fashion easily gliding between the other dancing couples until they made it to the far side of the ballroom which led down a narrow side hallway. It probably was used by the staff for taking away and bringing out food and drink. Mary, John, and Lestrade notice their companions' hasty but nonchalant fancy footwork that took them away from the rest of the guests, so followed suit down the hall.

By the time the rest of the party had joined in the small room with the criminal, Sherlock had already chained him to a light fixture. He was shamelessly gloating for capturing the offending one and closing the case. Lestrade called in his team to handle the situation, it would be a terrible shame to waste such a fine event- especially since the company was just as fine. Thus, the spectacularly dressed party resumed the festivities with much more ease now their task was finished.

* * *

Molly took her husband back to the floor just in time for the down beat of the next dance. With grace and much skill, the duo skittered across the hardwood floor in such elaborate manners so Molly's skirt billowed at the grandiose turnouts before resuming the natural dancing holds of ballroom dancing.

Gently outlining his face, Molly softly spoke into his ear, "You promised me a reason for why you have this appearance. Tell me now please, the case is over."

"Very well, it is for two reasons. First, I wanted to be clearly visible for the target and intended criminal. It was crucial for the target to see me and draw out his enemy, that is why I wore red. Secondly, I know you favour this colour so wearing it will make you happy."

Following his lead to change directions, she did not sidetrack from the discussion, "It's lovely of you to think like that. Yes, I do like this colour on you very much, suits you well. Black hair and a bold red- quite the appearance you have tonight. Now, what about these?" She fingered his eyelids closed then rested her head on his shoulder.

After giving a quick peck to her cheek he responded solemnly, "They are contacts to change my eyes into appearing as black holes. Both literally and figuratively," her breath hitched knowing the ever-constant pain of unsaid words about his lack of sight. Though much time has past since he became legally blind, behind the stoic facade of pleasantries the blindness still affects him, "This is a masquerade. I come tonight as Erik, you are my Christine. I know that is your favourite book."***

He moved his arms to cup her small waist whilst hers joined around his neck- it was the heels that made it possible for her to reach as so, "From our interactions tonight and whilst dancing, I conclude that your dress is a corset beaded bodice with a full skirt puffed out by many under layers and a petticoat. Your shoulders are semi-bare, only a capped sleeves covers them when your arms are poised for me to spin you. I'm assume it's a small V-cut form neckline studded in small rhinestones which occasionally pricked me when we danced." Molly placed his hand around her neck so he could confirm what he had already deduced correctly.

"You are correct, Erik. I hope you found the dress pleasing as you say I'm now Christine. There now, it was more enjoyable for you to deduce it than have me describe it aloud. Please don't wear those again, I'd much rather your beautiful natural eye colour than that horrid blackness. It makes me very sad to think of that for you."

"For you Molly," he held her close as they traversed the room slowly to the rhythm of the music, "I should not feel any remorse or second thoughts if I lost my remaining sight, or simply did not have eyeballs. It is not of a visual means that pleases me, you know I am far above that level of thinking. You please me with your good words and thoughtful gestures, those are what I find most important, not of what your wear tonight or what you look like. Though I shall always remember what you looked like on our wedding day- it was, you recall, my final days of light perception."

She gazed adoringly at him in the red festive garb. There was no doubt that Sherlock did not absolutely love his wife, but it wasn't always plainly evident as most couples portray their love. The Holmes' love was a beautiful, intricate, and complex tangle of words and gestures that didn't blatantly say "I love you." There was no need of that for either one of them. A simple nod from her husband or a soft "Yes, of course" from his wife was had more meaning than the most drawn-out love poem or speech.

* * *

*****This short story was inspired by the wonderful book "Le Fantôme d'Opéra" (Phantom of the Opera) written by Gaston Leroux and the Lloyd-Weber film adaptation with G. Butler/E. Rossum.**

**The film adaptation dresses Erik in a rich red coloured suit with a grey-white masque covering the upper portion of the face, leaving only two black round holes where his eye would be located. At the masquerade in the novel, he is known as "Red Death".** **Erik's visage is malformed and scarred from birth, thus lacking a defined nose and ear shapes. His eyeballs are sunken deep into the head, so the only visible part of his eyes are the two black eye sockets. Despite their poor formation, he has excellent vision.**


End file.
